Trying my hardest not to screw my face up in disgust, because I know Nan’s watchful eyes are passing between us, I approach slowly and replace Miller’s arm with my own. ‘Important call?’ Nan asks suspiciously. I should have known nothing gets past her.
‘You could say that.’ Miller drops a chaste kiss on my forehead in a pathetic attempt to pacify me, and Nan sighs dreamily as she watches Miller’s tight buns walk away. ‘Yes,’ Miller greets down the line as he disappears around the corner.
I’m pouting. I can’t help myself, and I resent Miller for not being able to do what comes to me too easily. Bury my head in the sand. Ignore it. Carry on like nothing shitty has ever happened.
‘Are you and Miller OK?’ Nan’s concerned croak breaks through my racing mind and puts me firmly back where I want to be.
‘Perfect,’ I lie, forcing a smile and collecting her bag from the floor. ‘Are you ready?’
‘Yes!’ she grumbles, exasperated, before slapping a smile back on her age-worn face and turning towards the bed opposite hers, forcing me to turn with her. ‘Bye, Enid!’ she shouts, stirring the poor old lady from what looks like a deep sleep. ‘Enid!’
‘Nan, she’s snoozing!’
‘She’s always bloody snoozing. Enid!’
The old dear’s eyes slowly open until she’s staring around, a little bewildered.
‘Over here!’ Nan yells, raising her hand and waving it above her head. ‘Cooooeeee!’
‘For God’s sake,’ I grumble, my feet starting to move when Nan begins trotting across the ward.
‘Don’t use the Lord’s name in vain, Olivia,’ she warns, dragging me alongside her. ‘Enid, dear, I’m going home now.’
Enid gives us a gummy smile, making a small laugh of sympathy slip from my mouth. She’s so frail and clearly not with it. ‘Where are you going?’ she croaks, attempting to sit up but giving up on an exhausted sigh.
‘Home, dear.’ Nan gets us to the side of Enid’s bed and shuffles from my hold so she can take her hand. ‘This is my granddaughter, Olivia. Remember? You met her before.’
‘I did?’ She turns inspecting eyes on me and Nan turns to follow her stare, smiling at me when she has me in view. ‘Oh yes. I remember.’
I smile as both ladies hold me in place with old, wise eyes, feeling a little uncomfortable under their studying stares. ‘It was nice to meet you, Enid.’
‘You take care, duck.’ She pulls her hand from Nan’s with some determined effort and grasps at air before me, prompting me to give her what she’s looking for. I rest my hand in hers. ‘He’ll be perfect,’ she says, making my head cock in question. ‘He’ll be perfect for you.’
‘Who will?’ I ask on a nervous laugh, flicking my eyes to a serious-looking Nan. She shrugs and turns back towards Enid, who’s drawing a laboured breath of air, ready to enlighten us, but she says no more, dropping my hand and falling back into a deep sleep.
I bite my lip and resist the urge to tell a sleeping Enid that he’s already perfect for me, however weird her surprising claim is.
‘Hmmm.’ Nan’s thoughtful hum drags my attention back to her. She’s watching Enid sleeping with a fond smile. ‘No family,’ Nan says, spiking immediate sadness within me. ‘She’s been here for over a month and not one person has visited. Can you imagine being so alone?’
‘No,’ I admit, contemplating such loneliness. I may have cut myself off from the world, but I was never lonely. Never alone. Miller was, though.
‘Surround yourself with people who love you,’ Nan says to herself, yet the intention for me to hear is obvious, although her reason for such a statement isn’t. ‘Take me home, sweetheart.’
I waste no time gesturing my arm for Nan to slip hers through and start a slow, easy walk to the exit. ‘Are you feeling OK?’ I ask, just as Miller rounds the corner, his luscious lips displaying a hint of a smile. He isn’t fooling me. I caught the stressed eyes on his impassive face before he spotted us.
‘Here he is!’ Nan sings. ‘All suited and booted.’
Miller relieves me of Nan’s bag and takes up position on the other side of her, offering his arm, too, which she takes on a happy smile. ‘The rose between two thorns,’ she titters, forcing us both closer to her with a surprisingly firm tightening of her arms. ‘Toodle-oo!’ she shouts at the nurse’s station as we pass. ‘Farewell!’
‘Goodbye, Mrs Taylor!’ They all laugh as we escort my grandmother from the ward, and I smile my apology to the team of medical staff who’ve endured days of her sass. I’m not really that sorry, only for not being the one on the constant receiving end of that Taylor sass.
It takes us a while, but we eventually make it out of the hospital, Miller and I both happy to amble along, while Nan has to be constantly held back from virtually sprinting from the place she’s seen as a prison for the duration of her stay. I haven’t looked at Miller once in the twenty minutes it’s taken us to make it to his car, though I’ve felt his eyes directed at me across Nan’s head on more than one occasion, probably gauging my thought process. If Nan wasn’t between us, I’d tell him exactly what my thought process is and save him the trouble. It’s simple. I don’t care and I don’t want to know. Whatever he and William may have spoken about, whatever plans they’ve made, I don’t want to know. The fact that Miller is probably fully armed in the knowledge department isn’t in the least bit piquing my curiosity as to what that knowledge might be. I have, however, silently concluded that William knew Gracie Taylor was here and he chose not to tell me. I’m not sure whether that should make me angry with him or grateful.
‘Well, would you look at Mr Swanky Pants!’ Nan laughs when Miller opens the back door of his Merc for her and swoops his arm in guidance – all gentlemanly. He’s taking Nan’s delusional conclusion that he’s always such a gent and playing on it. But I’ll let it pass, if only to keep that incredible smile gracing her face. I toss him slightly narrowed eyes, fighting to prevent matching his amusement as he helps Nan lower to the seat. ‘Oh, I say!’ she gasps, getting comfy on the backseat. ‘I feel like royalty!’
‘You are, Mrs Taylor,’ Miller replies as he shuts the door, hiding the satisfied blush that’s just crept onto her cheeks. Now that Nan’s out of the way, it’s just me and Miller, and I seriously dislike the thoughtful look on his face. Where’s all the impassiveness gone? I love and hate all of these facial expressions. ‘William would like to speak to you,’ he whispers, quite wisely, too, given Nan’s a mere foot away, albeit behind a closed door.
I’m quickly on my guard. ‘Not now,’ I hiss, knowing that I probably mean never. ‘Right now I have one priority.’
‘I concur,’ Miller agrees without delay, surprising me. He moves in and dips to get our faces level. Reassuring blue eyes haul me into their safety and comfort, make my arms twitch at my sides. ‘Which is why I told him you’re not ready.’
I give up fighting to keep them by my sides and throw them over his shoulders in gratitude. ‘I love you.’
‘We established that long ago, sweet girl,’ he whispers, pulling back to get my face in view. ‘Let me taste you.’
Our mouths meet and my feet leave the ground, our tongues falling into a beautifully delicate pace of swirling, each of us nipping at each other’s lips when we pull back, time and time again. I’m lost, consumed, oblivious to our very public surroundings . . . until a sharp rapping jolts me back to the here and now and we both pull apart. Miller huffs a quiet, disbelieving shot of laughter as we turn towards the window of his car. I can’t see Nan’s face – the blacked out windows are preventing it, but if I could, I know she’d be pushed up against the glass, grinning.
‘A treasure,’ Miller mutters, releasing me and straightening me out before beginning on himself. It’s been some time since he’s fixed his suit, but he’s making up for it now, taking a good minute to pull and smooth every part of him into place while I watch on a smile, comforted by one of his finicky ways, even reaching up and dusting off a piece of lint that he’s
missed. He smiles in response, reaches for my nape, and pulls me forward, planting a kiss on my forehead.
Rap rap rap!
‘Give me strength,’ he mumbles against my skin, then releases me and turns a scowl onto the window of his car. ‘Beautiful things should be savoured, Mrs Taylor.’
Nan’s answer to that is another round of taps on the window, prompting Miller to bend and get up close to the window, his scowl still firmly in place. My amusement increases when he raps right back. I hear Nan’s gasp of shock, even through the closed door, not that it has any effect on my part-time gentleman. He raps again.
‘Miller, behave,’ I laugh, loving the irritation flaming in him under my grandmother’s pesky behaviour.
‘She really is royal.’ He straightens and slips his hands into his pockets. ‘A royal . . .’
‘Pain in the arse?’ I finish for him when he pulls up, guilt jumping onto his face.
‘Sometimes,’ he agrees, making me laugh. ‘Let’s get her ladyship home, shall we?’ He nods towards the other side of the car and I follow his instruction, taking myself to the passenger side and jumping in the back with Nan.
When I’ve got my seat belt on, I look across and find her fiddling with hers, so I lend a hand and secure it for her. ‘There,’ I say, resting back in my seat and watching as she takes in the sumptuous interior of Miller’s posh car. She reaches up and presses a button that puts a light on, then turns it off again. She fiddles with the air-con buttons between the footwells, humming her approval. She pushes a button that sends her window down, then pushes it again to close it back up. Then she finds an armrest between us and pulls it down, sliding the runner back to reveal cup holders. Old, amazed navy eyes fly up to mine and she forms an O with her marshmallow lips. ‘I bet the queen’s car isn’t as posh as this.’ Her comment should make me laugh, but I’m too busy flicking nervous eyes to Miller in the rearview mirror, trying to gauge his reaction to all this messing of his perfect world.
He’s staring at me, his jaw tight, and I return that smile awkwardly, mouthing ‘sorry’ on a bunched up face. His lovely head shakes from side to side, tousling up his waves as he virtually screeches out of the parking space. I conclude very quickly that he wants to get this journey over with as soon as possible and limit the time my dear grandmother has to screw around with his perfect world. God forbid if she could reach the temperature controls up front. I inwardly laugh. And he wanted to move her into his flat? Holy shit, he’d have a seizure every five minutes!
There are continuous hoots of glee coming from Nan as Miller zips and weaves through the London traffic, but her excitement dulls to nothing when she catches sight of my left hand as it reaches up to rest on the seat in front of me. I realise what’s holding her attention straightaway. She reaches across the car and takes my hand, pulling it towards her and studying it quietly. I can do nothing more than let her, bracing myself for her reaction. I turn pleading eyes up to the rearview mirror and find Miller watching intermittently between keeping an eye on the road.
‘Hmmm,’ she hums, rubbing across the peak of my ring with the pad of her thumb. ‘So, Miller, when are you marrying my beautiful granddaughter?’ Her raised grey eyebrows are quickly on me, despite the question being directed at Miller, and I shrink into the leather seat. He better think of something quick-sharp, because I haven’t the foggiest idea of what to tell her. I need her to stop looking at me like that. My cheeks are flaming red-hot and my throat is closing off under the pressure, making speech impossible. ‘Well?’ she prompts.
‘I’m not.’ Miller’s short, sharp response makes everything die inside. He has no problem telling my spunky nan, and while I understand him, I’m not sure she will. She’s old school.
‘Why ever not?’ She sounds offended, almost angry, and I consider the possibility of her reaching forward and smacking the back of Miller’s head. She probably would. ‘What’s wrong with her?’
I’d laugh if I could find air to draw breath. What’s wrong with me? Everything!
‘That ring is a sign of my love, Mrs Taylor. My eternal love.’
‘That’s all good and well, but what’s it doing on her wedding finger?’
‘Because your beautiful ring holds position on her right hand and I wouldn’t be so disrespectful as to ask her to replace what’s been in her life for longer than me.’
I swell with pride and Nan stutters her astonishment. ‘Can’t we just swap them?’
‘Are you trying to marry me off?’ I ask, finally finding some words.
‘So?’ she huffs, her nose put firmly out of joint, not even Miller’s respectful explanation diluting her displeasure. ‘You plan on living in sin forever?’
Her absent-minded choice of word resonates deeply, and I find mine and Miller’s eyes locked together in the mirror, mine wide, his wary.
Sin.
There are so many sinful things she’s unaware of, things that my poor mind is struggling to deal with. I wouldn’t have exposed her to it before, no matter how sassy and spunky she might be, and I’m most certainly not exposing her to it now. Not with her being so delicate after her heart attack, though you’d never know it. Being hospitalised for the past few days seems to have injected even more sass into her Taylor bones.
Miller returns his eyes to the road, and I remain tense in my seat, but Nan keeps expectant eyes on my OCD-suffering, ex-prostitute, notorious male ex-escort . . .
I sigh. My mind hasn’t the strength to even mentally list the endless sinful things that Miller was.
‘I plan on worshipping your granddaughter for the rest of my life, Mrs Taylor,’ Miller says quietly, yet Nan’s wistful coo indicates she heard it perfectly, and that might just be good enough. It is for me, and though I constantly tell myself no one else matters, Nan’s approval really does. I think I have it. I’ll just have to keep telling myself that her lacking knowledge is of no consequence, that her opinion wouldn’t change in the least bit if she knew every sordid detail.
‘Home sweet home, my lady.’ Miller breaks into my stray thoughts as we pull up to Nan’s house. I notice George and Gregory on the pavement outside, both men sitting on the low wall at the end of our front garden, both men looking apprehensive. I haven’t the time or energy to waste on worrying about Miller and Gregory in such close proximity. They just better behave.
‘What are they doing here?’ Nan grumbles, making no attempt to get out, instead waiting for Miller to open the door for her. She’s not fooling me. She’s loving all of the special treatment, not that she doesn’t get it under normal circumstances. ‘I’m not an invalid!’
‘I beg to differ,’ Miller retorts firmly, offering his hand, which she takes on a little scowl. ‘Less of the sass, Mrs Taylor.’
I chuckle to myself as I get out of the car and join them on the pavement, hearing Nan huffing and puffing all over Miller. ‘The cheek!’
‘Olivia’s certainly learned from the best of them,’ he grumbles, giving Nan up to George when he steps forward, a worried look all over his old round face.
‘How are you feeling, Josephine?’ George says, taking Nan’s arm.
‘I’m fine!’ She accepts Georges arm, indicating her need for support, and lets him lead her up the garden path. ‘How are you, Gregory?’ she asks as she passes him. ‘And Ben?’
He’s told her? I look to my friend, as does Miller, as does George. Four sets of eyes are all resting on Gregory, spiking a string of uncomfortable shifting movements to play out before us. His boots scuff the concrete, he flicks us all wide eyes, and we all just stand staring at the poor guy, waiting for his reply. He coughs. ‘Um, yeah, fine. We’re fine. How are you, Nan?’
‘Perfect,’ she replies in an instant, and nudges George on his way. ‘Let’s make some tea.’
Everyone jumps back into action and follows Nan and George towards the house, but I quickly take over the lead so I can open the front door, allowing them all to pass as I hold it open. The deep inhale that she takes as she’s help
ed over the threshold and absorbs the familiarity of her home fills me with bliss that could rival the wonderful place that Miller takes me to when I’m the sole focus of his attention. And that’s some mighty blissful place. Having her home, seeing and hearing her sass, it’s all stamping out other more challenging matters that I’m currently doing anything to avoid dealing with.
Gregory wanders in, giving me a cheeky wink that escalates my happiness, followed by Miller, who takes over my hold of the door and nods for me to continue. ‘Such a gentleman,’ I tease, turning to see Nan now guiding George to the kitchen at the back of the house, when she should be settling on the couch or maybe even going to bed. This is going to be hard work. She’s impossible! On a roll of my eyes, I make chase, set on nailing down a few rules, but a sharp slap of my arse stops me dead in my tracks. The sting is instant and I reach to rub the soreness away as I whirl around, finding Miller pushing the door closed.
‘Ouch!’ Ouch? I have no other words. Miller Hart – my man whose manners put royalty to shame, just slapped my arse? Not patted. Slapped. And a stinger of a slap, too.
A perfectly straight face slowly turns to me, and he inhales as he smoothes down his suit, taking his usual ridiculous time and care, while I remain totally dumbfounded before him, waiting for . . . something . . . anything.
‘Give me something!’ I blurt, still rubbing at my backside.
He finishes up perfecting his perfect suit, then sweeps his perfect hair from the goddamn perfect face. His eyes darken. My legs cross in my standing position. ‘Another one?’ he asks casually, a glint of mischief in his beautiful eyes.
I take a deep breath and hold it, biting at my bottom lip furiously. What’s gotten into him? Is Nan rubbing off on him?